In The Blood

Running

(Chance)

At first, I believed him. Bathroom. He wanted to step away from us, splash his face, try to calm down, and then come back in a little while. With hurt feelings and a little more anxiety to add to his constantly anxious state. Worse for wear but would be OK. He'd wash his face, maybe use the toilet, and we'd all start a Rob brigade, a steady two-by-two flow into the PACU. But his eyes. Ohhh, but his eyes. Normally a warm and vibrant brown, they'd gone near black and glassed over as he sat there, absorbing it, absorbing all of what had just been thrown at him in her anger, fear, and hurt. Yes, Ericha had a right to be upset. I understood where she was coming from. I would be upset too if I were in her position as life-threatening family illnesses came to light. Adam should have mentioned this leukemia thing to her at least once, should that particular cancer be genetic. Some cancers are. I had no idea about leukemia though. Evidently the pain, the trauma, of seeing Chris fight it, seeing Chris struggle through the ravages of a terrible disease, ran through Adam too deeply and just had never been adequately addressed. It is a lot for a loved one to go through. Cancer isn't a disease that affects just the one person afflicted with it. It affects everyone who interacts with the one who has it. Fuck cancer. I hated it with every fiber of my being. It'd claimed the lives of two people in my life already—my grandma with her diffuse breast cancer, and my father, whose memory I carried with me every day. And I took plenty of antidepressants, which helped me immeasurably. I'll always feel the pain. But the medicine helps me cope.

Tim flew out of the waiting room and, on instinct, I followed him. Most of Pentatonix and Jessica were still shocked into inaction. Scott, Mitch, and Kirstie were, of all things, near out and out laughing. I'd have to personally slap each one of them later. Don't laugh during a crisis. And it was only the, what, sixth or seventh crisis of the night? Austin and Sawyer came running after me and, as we ran through the main waiting room, we picked up Casey and Taylor. The five of us flew past the bathroom Tim had claimed he wanted to use, down the hall, past the elevator. We clamored down the stairs, all of us begging him to stop, to slow down, to talk to us. He just shouted at us angrily and pressed himself into an influx of people entering the hospital through the downstairs lobby. Where the hell he thought he was going or why was beyond me. He'd just reacted to the additional stressor by bolting. Running away from problems never solved anything. For example, the latent and veiled-over issues Adam kept to himself. One day it was going to turn on him and leave him in dire straights. Today everything was exploding in on Tim; Ericha's words turning into a lit match igniting him. The look, the hurt and emptiness, in his eyes scared me. I had no idea where he was going or what he thought he was going to do. And I was scared. He'd had barely-resolved psychological issues for several weeks, just attaching band-aids to hemorrhaging wounds without actually treating them.

Having lost him in the incoming crowd, I spun around frantically. "Tim! Tiiim! Tiiim! Tim, Tim, Tiiiim!!!"

"Tiiim!" Came an answering scream from across the lobby. Taylor was screaming frantically for him as well. "Tiiim!!!"

"Chance!" Austin yelled from nearby me. "Chaaance!"

I whirled around to him, at least finding him standing in the hallway, hair flying everywhere and pale as a sheet. I shot an arm out and grabbed him by the wrist. No way in hell I was letting him out of my sight right now. He clutched at me, both of us breathing hard. Screaming Taylor's name, we ran across the lobby and I grabbed him by the elbow.

"Where the hell is he?" Taylor yelled, eyes huge as he rested one hand on his head.

"Iii dooon't knowww!!!" Austin wailed, jaw quivering and ready to cry as he pushed his hand into his pocket.